


Only In Dreams

by usernicole



Category: BBC Radio 1 RPF, One Direction (Band)
Genre: Multi, Telepathy, dream stuff, weird inception references
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-30
Updated: 2015-06-30
Packaged: 2018-04-06 23:44:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,240
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4241163
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/usernicole/pseuds/usernicole
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nick's been through worse than a couple of boybanders being able to read his mind.</p><p>That's a lie.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Only In Dreams

**Author's Note:**

  * For [foundfamilyvevo](https://archiveofourown.org/users/foundfamilyvevo/gifts).



> huskyyyyy i'm gonna try and keep myself secret but i'm really bad at that 
> 
> ALL OF UR PROMPTS WERE GOLDEN. ALL OF THEM. i had so much trouble picking one i loved them all.
> 
> i hope this is worthy of ur lovely prompts :( 
> 
> MUCH MUCH THANKS to M my beta who i will credit after my identity is revealed and J who cheered me on and sent me a text with an emoji that unknowingly ended up being part of the end of this fic
> 
> title is a weezer song

It starts when Nick wakes up with a song in his head.

This isn't an uncommon occurrence. He hums it hoarsely as he pulls an outfit out of his closet, and sings it tiredly in front of the mirror while he cleans his teeth, still more asleep than awake. He croons the chorus to Pig as he sets her food down for breakfast, and she barks happily in response. He dances around his kitchen while he makes his morning coffee. It's a good morning.

The only thing is, try as he might, he can't recall who sings the song, or even what it is. The lyrics are all jumbled, so googling them doesn't help. He even tries singing the song into a song-finding app on his phone, but all it tells him is that it can't identify a song from someone singing.

Eventually he shrugs it off, whistling cheerfully as he gets into his car to drive to work. He puts the radio on and pretty soon the mystery song is forsaken for the latest Disclosure track.

A world away, in a hotel somewhere in South America, Liam Payne and Louis Tomlinson fall asleep curled up on the same bed, giggling sleepily. Between them lies a spiral notebook, open to a page containing the lyrics to a brand new song.

***

The telepathy thing is new. ish.

It's new enough that it's still a bit weird for Louis to wake up with Liam's voice in his head, but old enough that their ability to read each other's mind has begun to make Niall and Harry's life a living hell.

“'S creepy,” Harry says sleepily, head rested against the window of the formerly silent van. They're on their way back to their hotel after a show, and the security detail they've been assigned is making the ride twice as long as it should be. They had all been quiet, settling into the crushing silence that was the world after doing a show for eighty thousand people, before Liam and Louis had burst out laughing out of the blue.

“'S not,” Liam says, while Louis tries to regain his composure. “You're just jealous of our magical bond, Hazza.”

“Am not,” Harry says, not moving his head from the window. “Who knows what nonsense is bouncing around your brain. Besides, me and Niall have been able to do that for ages, haven't we, Niall?” He kicks the back of Niall's seat.

Niall wakes with a loud snuffle. “What?” he says, rubbing his eyes blearily and looking back at them in the rearview mirror.

“We've got a bond,” Harry says. “What am I thinking about right now?”

Niall hums, falling back asleep. “You're thinking that Liam and Louis need to shut up with their dumb superpower and let us sleep.”

“Got it in one,” Harry says, yawning.

“Yeah right,” Louis says, finally recovered. “You're _so_ jealous of us. We're like – we're like Wolverine and Professor X.”

 _ **Wait, but who's who?**_ Liam's voice echoes in Louis' brain. _**Bagsies Wolverine**_ **.**

Louis frowns at him. “Well, I sure as hell aren't going to be some bald old guy,” he says out loud.

“You could be like, the young one,” Liam says. “James McAvoy.”

“He still goes bald _eventually_ , Liam,” Louis says, crossing his arms. “Anyway, I take it back. Professor X and Wolverine doesn't make sense because we can both read each other's mind. It'd need to be two telepaths.”

Liam's brow furrows, and Louis picks up on the jumbled buzz of Liam's mind as he concentrates. “Jean Grey,” he says finally.

“Well, I'm not going to be a _girl_ , Liam,” Louis says, rolling his eyes.

“Why not?” Liam asks indignantly. “She's well cool. Fit, too.” He pouts. “Fine then, I'll be Jean Grey and you can go bald eventually.”

“I take it back,” Harry groans, running a hand down his face. “I liked it better when you were talking in your brains. _Do_ shut up.”

Louis snorts, and Liam reaches over to pat at Harry's shoulder apologetically before resuming their conversation about superheroes, this time internally.

Niall and Harry know, of course, almost from the very beginning, when Louis had come storming through the hotel hallways and into Liam's room, yelling before he even saw Liam scrolling sadly through his twitter mentions.

Aside from that, it would have been hard not to notice, with how they suddenly became twice as terrible. Nowhere is safe from their antics, the hotels, the bus, or the stage. Their pranks have an eery symmetry and spontaneity that means everyone around them constantly has to look over their shoulder, knowing that it's rare that they both focus on one person. By the end of the first week of them reading each other's minds, nearly every member of the crew and band had been ambushed. And on top of that, the two of them had developed a set of inside jokes so intricate that, on the off chance they _did_ say anything out loud, it was nearly in a different language.

Liam and Louis had already been scarily codependent, practically joined at the hip and always plotting, but once they fully understood what was happening, they still made sure to tell the other boys. If anything, reading each other's mind was just an extension of their No In-Band Secrets rule, so it was only fair that they share it with the other two boys.

When they told them, Niall had offered to voice every one of his thoughts to even things out, but it quickly became obvious that he was just using that as an excuse to tease and make fun of everything the other boys wore, did, or were. Harry had just hummed thoughtfully in response, and then refused to tell them what he was thinking.

So, honestly, things aren't all that different from what they had been. They still write together day in and day out, only now it was a mainly silent event (It was amazing for Liam to be able to finally have Louis hear exactly what he wanted, to offer his thoughts in their rawest form. And Louis found it easier to explore more personal topics and lyrics when he didn't actually have to voice his thoughts.). They still get into all sorts of messes, and are even more of a security risk as they are now privy to each other's wildest ideas, and, most of all, they still step on stage together every show, breathing the same electric atmosphere and surrounding themselves in the same roar of violent adoration. They still weave their voices together harmoniously, and bathe in the glow of a thousand lights, eyes bright.

They still do what they love, what they've always dreamed, and they do it together. What they don't do is dwell on the times when they're alone, curled up in a hotel bed swapping daydreams, when it gets a bit...echoey in their shared mind.

***

Nick dreams of being on stage.

It's not like any stage he's used to. It's not a television studio, and he doesn't have a set of turntables in front of him. It's just him, and the stage is _huge_ , bigger than anything he's seen before. He dreams and the crowd is always there, twinkling lights that make him feel like he's been shot into space, traveling at warp speed as stars flicker all around and over him. The audience is so loud it's almost as though they're not making any sound at all, his eardrums cushioned by their screams.

Nick doesn't dream of adoration like this, hasn't since he was young and scribbling Nirvana lyrics in the margins of all his textbooks, so desperate for love and attention. Nick is comfortable where he is now, safe behind a microphone and in the lens of a camera. The odd DJ gigs he gets are nothing compared to this.

Nothing like the elation-fear-pride that comes with standing on a stage like this, feet firmly on the ground below him, but floating all the same. In his dream he looks all around, eyes as wide as they can go. He's got something gripped in his right hand, a microphone. He takes a deep breath and somewhere nearby is the strum of an electric guitar. It's like his body is moving by itself when it lifts the microphone to his mouth, but his hand is shaking.

There's something not right about this. His gaze flits from side to side. The stage extends on all sides, and the catwalk before him is so long he can't see the end of it, and he's alone. He's not supposed to be alone, not on this stage. He drops the microphone and spins, looking all over for _someone_. Someones?

The roar of the crowd gets somehow louder, the weight of their noise beating against him. There's an incline behind him, incredibly steep and imposing, and at the top is a gaping doorway. Out of the corners of his eyes he can see the flashing lights, and it's making him see spots. He can't be alone on this stage, it's impossible.

His breath quickens, and he thinks frantically that he's going to have an asthma attack on this stage. Almost without realizing it he extends his hand to the doorway, reaching for the ones he knows are meant to be there. The ground starts to quake beneath his feet, and he wakes up.

He sits upright quickly, dislodging Pixie who had been clinging to him like a limpet. She grumbles sleepily, turning over and curling around one of his pillows.

Nick huffs out a laugh, dropping his face into his hands and trying to control his shaking shoulders so he doesn't wake his friend. “That was _weird_ ,” he thinks, rubbing his eyes, before glancing over at his clock and groaning at the early hour.

He flops back down on the bed, but he's too wired to go back to sleep, so after a few minutes he slides out of bed to make himself breakfast. By the time Pixie wakes up he's almost put the dream out of his mind completely.

***

Liam and Louis dream of a blue camel in a Hawaiian shirt. Singing Madonna.

“You've got some weird dreams, mate,” Louis says, scratching his head. They woke up at the same time, when the camel kicked them in the face.

“That wasn't _my_ dream,” Liam says. “Or at least, it didn't _feel_ like my dream. I thought it was yours.”

Louis gives him a disgruntled look. “Of course it wasn't mine, I'm not strange like you.”

Liam rolls his -eyes. “Whatever, it's over now. We might as well get up.” For the rest of the day they manage to forget the dream, for the most part. When Harry meets them at soundcheck, they almost piss themselves laughing at his shirt, bright yellow and covered in palm trees, and Liam can't help but sing a little bit of _Like A Virgin_ on stage, waggling his eyebrows in Louis' general direction. Louis just rolls his eyes and fails to hide his grin.

The thing is, though, that after that everything manages to get the slightest bit weirder, if that's possible.

Liam and Louis share everything now. They share a hotel room, which they haven't done in _years_ , and their stuff is spread out amongst each other's luggage. Most days, they walk around in a bizarre Frankenstein's monster of their combined wardrobes. They keep mixing up their cell phones, and their laptops, and all their video games are in the wrong cases. Most nights, not that they'll readily admit to anyone that isn't in their band, they're even sharing a bed, usually flopping onto whichever one is closest to the door.

But while now they're used to even the strangest thoughts the other has (“What the hell? Of _course_ a monkey can't be taught to drive a plane, Liam.” “I bet you they could, though!”), there are times when they pick up on thoughts that are just...off.

Liam spends an entire afternoon picking up on thoughts about Jake Gyllenhaal. During his daily workout with Mark he thinks about Jake's eyes, his arms, and whether or not he likes dogs.

 _ **Yeah, that's probably a deal breaker,**_ Liam thinks. _**Must love dogs.**_ He nods to himself and Mark rolls his eyes, already used to Liam zoning out to “talk” to Louis.

“I wouldn't say it's a _deal breaker_ ,” Louis says later, sidling up to Liam in the hotel restaurant. He nudges Liam's side with an elbow. “Jake Gyllenhaal, eh?”

“I couldn't date anyone who didn't like dogs,” Liam says, nudging back. “Anyway, you're the one who's obsessed with him.”

Louis frowns. “What do you mean?” he asks. “I mean, Jake Gyllenhaal is.” _**Well.**_

 _ **Yeah**_ **,** Liam thinks.

“What I mean is, you're the one planning a future with him.”

“That was _you_ ,” Liam says. “I was hearing _your_ thoughts.”

“Mate, you're losing it,” Louis says. “I didn't think about Jake Gyllenhaal until you mentioned him.”

Liam starts to feel annoyed, and shoves the feeling down. “Okay, it's over now. Let's just eat.” Louis just shrugs and buries his head in the menu. That night they watch _Brokeback Mountain_. And cry.

It keeps happening after that. Liam is doing a radio interview over the phone when he hears a thought about dogs wearing wellies, and he laughs so hard the interview gets a little annoyed with him. Louis gets the most obnoxious song in his head, but he doesn't know the words, just sings _bwum-bwum-bwum buh-duh-nuh_ over and over until Niall throws something at him. They both hear a rather salty comment about one of their music videos that has the both of them not speaking to each other for hours, until they realize neither one of them had thought it.

“Maybe it's someone else,” Zayn says, voice tinny coming through Liam's laptop speakers. He's got his webcam set up somewhere in his kitchen at home, turned towards where he stands in front of the stovetop, several pans bubbling before him. “Maybe it's someone else's thoughts.”

Louis scoffs, rolling over on the hotel bed to stare at Zayn. “That's stupid. Who else would it be?”

“What if,” Liam says, with a dawning look of horror overtaking his face, “we're like, melting together? Like, what if our brains are joining to make one person?”

Louis turns back to look disbelievingly at Liam, sitting up against the headboard. “Really, Payno. We're _melting together?”_

“Like in _Dragonball Z_ , _”_ Zayn mutters, and they ignore him. He dips a spoon into his sauce pan and makes a face when he tastes it, rummaging through his cabinets.

“Well, what's _your_ theory then?” Liam says, crossing his arms. “I don't see you providing any input.” Louis imitates Liam in a stupid voice in his head. And calls him a name. “I heard that!”

Zayn sighs. “Hear me out,” he says. “These thoughts don't come all the time, right? Just every once in a while, and they're not coming from either of you so maybe it's like,” he leans back against his kitchen counter, crossing his arms. “Like the radio, yeah? Or like a cell phone. “

“Yeah, only it doesn't work that way with me and Liam,” Louis says. “We've been away from each other and still heard each other, crystal clear.”

“Just like, a few miles at most though,” Liam says. “We haven't been in different cities in ages.”

Louis scoffs. “And who do you suppose this person is then, Malik? _You're_ far away. Is it _you_? Have any particularly deep thoughts about celebrities lately?”

“Not particularly, no,” Zayn says, turning off his stovetop. He grins over at the webcam. “Don't know if I could handle being able to read your thoughts, Louis, to be completely honest.”

Louis rolls his eyes before pushing himself up and moving towards the door. “I'm tired of this conversation,” he says. “I'm going to find Niall, seeing he's the only sensible one around here.”

Liam waves before pulling the computer up to sit on his lap. “It'll be alright, Liam,” Zayn says. “It'll all fix itself.”

“I almost wish it _was_ you,” Liam says. “You're not completely ridiculous.”

Zayn sighs, not unkindly. “No you don't.” He looks at Liam pointedly, raising his eyebrows, and Liam gulps, going a bit red. He forces himself to mentally make a list of Marvel superheros, just in case anyone is listening.

Back in England, Nick completely smashes the “Comic Book” round of pub trivia in a feat that is nothing short of a miracle. He makes everyone call him Iron Man for the rest of the night, and sends a silent thank you to the gods of pointless information.

***

Nick wakes up with the same mysterious song in his head, and a spring in his step. He enjoys the day of the Brits the same way most people enjoy Christmas morning, only the Brits are _better_ , because they involve wearing your nicest clothes and getting drunk with A-listers.

Also, he doesn't know why, but for a while it's been as though his mind is constantly buzzing. His attention span is shot to bits, and his thoughts are moving a mile a minute, half-formed and fleeting. He feels full up to the brim with ideas and images and songs. It makes for some of the most entertaining radio he's done in a while, but it's also been driving everyone around him crazy.

He whistles the song as he walks Pig, bouncing lightly on his toes as she does her business. He hums it as he gets ready, swaying from side to side. He's full on singing by the time he's in the cab with Fiona and Vic on their way to the show, even though he doesn't know most of the words.

“You're on one today,” Fiona says, grinning. “Excited?”

“You don't even know,” Nick says. Vic makes some quip about not going overboard in light of the show in the morning, but it's _the Brits_ , and even after years of attending it still hasn't quite lost its charm.

He's thankfully not in charge of any red carpet interviews for the radio, but he is presenting an award, so for most of the show he gets to sit at a table with Vic and Fiona and the rest of his old team, and every so often someone comes up to chat. It's a fine night, even with the buzzing static at the back of his mind stealing half of his attention, and when he has to get up to go get ready to present he doesn't even mind.

He has about fifteen minutes to get ready before he's due to go on stage, so he mostly just fusses with his hair a bit and checks his phone. He's contemplating a backstage selfie when he hears someone shout his name happily.

“Harry Styles!” he says, turning toward the voice with arms open. Harry barrels into them and it's almost like he hasn't been away on tour for the better part of a year.

“Nicholas Grimshaw,” Harry says loudly, pulling back and clasping Nick's forearms. He's grinning wide, dimples on display, and his eyes are the tiniest bit glassy. Nick rolls his eyes fondly.

“Already had a few then, eh, Hazza?” Nick says, and Harry pouts.

“It's the Brits,” Harry says. “It's basically _required_.”

Nick laughs. “So it is. So what brings you to these parts then? Shouldn't you be out at one of them tables smiling for the cameras?”

“We just presented an award,” he says, jerking a thumb behind him and, sure enough, the rest of One Direction is milling about, Niall in a deep conversation with a sound tech and Liam and Louis seemingly having a battle of who can do the weirdest thing with their eyebrows.

“I see,” Nick says, turning back to Harry. “I'm on in about fifteen minutes.”

“Excellent,” Harry says. “I should probably–“ He makes a gesture that Nick supposes is meant to convey “Round Up the Boybanders,” and Nick nods. “I'll see you later?”

“Of course,” Nick says, waving as Harry heads off. He hums a bit of the song, singing the tail end of the chorus, the part that he actually knows the words to, already thumbing open his phone's camera for that selfie he was thinking about. Harry stops in his tracks.

“Nick,” he says, whipping back around. With all that hair it looks more than a little ridiculous, and Nick looks up at him from his phone, eyebrow raised. “What was that you were just singing?”

“Um,” Nick says, confused. “A song?” He whistles the tune, and Harry's eyes widen. Then, he grabs Nick's wrist and tugs him over towards the rest of his band.

“Um?” Nick says loudly, but he's ignored.

“Emergency band meeting,” Harry says, before dragging Nick into a nearby dressing room, the rest of the band toddling after them.

Once they're safely in the room, Nick yanks his wrist out of Harry's hand. “Harry,” he says loudly. “I'm on in _ten minutes_.”

“Do what you did earlier,” Harry says. “Sing the song you were singing just now.”

“Harry, what's going on?” Liam says worriedly.

“Yeah, Harry,” Nick says, gritting his teeth. “What's going on?”

“Do it, Nick,” Harry says, surprisingly stern for someone Nick knows is comprised almost entirely of kale.

“Nick groans. “ _Fine_ ,” he says, and sings the chorus. He doesn't sing it loudly, more than a little embarrassed, but almost instantly the rest of the boys are talking loudly over each other.

“Where the _hell_ did you hear that?” Louis asks, getting up in Nick's face. Nick steps back until he's pressed up against a wall. “You son of a–“

“Did it leak?” Liam is pleading, looking at Nick with big, pleading eyes. “We're not mad, we just need to know how you–“

“I'm calling the label,” Niall says, digging his phone out of his dark jeans. Nick feels a bit dizzy.

“I don't know!” he pleads. “Look, I've got to go soon, I don't know where I heard it.”

“Then how do you know the words?” Louis snaps, and Nick gulps.

“Honestly, I don't know,” Nick says. “I swear. I thought it was something I heard off the telly. I woke up and it was stuck in my head. I had no idea it was you boys, or whatever. I swear.”

He runs a hand through his hair before cursing internally at himself for messing it up just minutes before he's set to present at the Brits. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Liam flinch, and his eyes widen, like he's just realized something. Nick lets his hands fall uselessly at his sides, biting his lip. He needs to settle this and get himself in front of a mirror and do _something_ about the _god damn buzzing in his head_.

“ _Boys_ ,” Liam says sternly, and the room is suddenly quiet. Liam walks over to Nick and puts a hand on his shoulder. “Nick, listen–“

 _ **Ugh**_ **,** Nick thinks. _**I'm sorry, Liam Payne, but I do**_ **not** _ **have time for your nice arms right now.**_

Liam chokes on a laugh, looking at Nick like Nick's just grown another head (only a head that is apparently Really Really Great). He drops his hands from Nick's shoulder and crosses his arms. “Right, sorry, mate.” Only, his mouth doesn't move. The static in Nick's head goes suddenly quiet.

“Oh you've _got_ to be kidding me,” Louis says loudly. _**Him?**_

Nick's head snaps over to gape at Louis. “Is this like, a prank?” he asks weakly. “Is this like, some weird ventriloquist thing? Am I being recorded?” He looks over at Harry, who just shrugs. Niall is barely holding back laughter.

 _ **That would be sick**_ , Nick hears Louis say, but Liam just shakes his head.

“No mate, uh,” Nick thinks _**he says mate**_ **so** _ **much**_ **,** and Liam shrugs his shoulders, laughing. “I'm pretty sure we can read each other's minds. You, me, and Louis.”

Nick gives him his most dramatic look of disbelief, and Liam laughs again. “I'm _serious_ , mate. Not making it up.” He turns to look at Louis and thinks _**help me out**_ , and Nick _hears it._

Louis makes a long, drawn out noise of frustration, but his mind is nothing but a string of curse words. _“Fine_ ,” he says. “Liam, come here.”

Liam walks over dutifully, and they both turn towards Nick. “How many fingers am I holding up?” he asks, pulling his arm behind his back.

Nick makes a frustrated noise. “Really?”

“Just indulge them, Grim,” Harry says, and Nick glares at him. Niall's laughter must be contagious, because Harry can't seem to stop himself from giggling into his hands at Nick's annoyed face.

Nick sighs. “Alright,” he says, and focuses on Louis. Louis' voice immediately fills his head. _**Three**_

_**ThreeThreeThreeThreeThreeThreeThree–** _

Nick gives him an unimpressed look, and is about to open his mouth to say “three,” but he sees Liam lean back to take a look at Louis' hand. _**Louis**_ _,_ he thinks, long-suffering.

“Hey!” Nick sputters, pointing at Louis. “He's flipping me off!”

Niall and Harry dissolve into laughter, and Louis pulls his hand out from behind his back, brandishing his middle finger with a smug look on his face. Nick can see that Liam's trying to look annoyed at Louis' antics, but he can't stop himself from smiling.

“See?” Liam says. “We've been able to hear a few of your thoughts for the last few weeks, and like, dreams, I guess–“

“ _What_?” Nick says, eyes wide.

“Oh, no! Just–“ he starts to say, but he's interrupted by someone knocking at the door and announcing that Nick has about a minute before he's meant to be on stage.

“Oh my god,” Nick says, looking at his watch. “Look, I've got to go. I'll see you later.” He barrels through them, not able to muster up any regret over his rudeness.

 _ **Good luck!**_ Liam's voice rings in his head along with a quieter _**that could have gone better.**_ Louis' voice just says _**Break a leg, Grimshaw**_

The night, after that, is nothing short of a mess.

He manages to pull through to present the award moments later – because he's a _professional_ , dammit – but when it actually comes to reading off the winner of the award, Liam and Louis' voices pop into the back of his mind.

 _ **One Direction**_ _,_ Louis thinks at him. _**The winner is One Direction.**_

It is decidedly not. Nick is presenting the award for British Female Solo Artist.

 _ **Louis, stop it,**_ Liam says.

 _ **OneDirectionOneDirectionOneDirectionOneDirection,**_ Louis starts.

Nick doesn't say One Direction, but it's a close thing. When Nick finally makes his way back to his table, he sends a string of unkind thoughts toward their table. He only feels a little bad about it when he receives an abundance of apologies from Liam in response.

After that, he's privy to Liam and Louis' running commentary on everything they see and do. He hears what they think of the food, the decorations, the things people are wearing. Liam gets so excited during nearly every performance that Nick almost feels his happiness bubbling over into Nick's own, and it makes him uncomfortable to be so in tune with the feelings of someone he barely knows. He does his best to tune them out, but his concentration is completely shot.

His friends spend most of the night teasing him, thinking his lack of concentration is due to how much he's been drinking, but the truth is that, by the time the awards show is over, he's completely sober, and it _sucks._ He decides after that that he's not going to let a weird psychic boy band ruin one of his favorite nights of the year, so he accepts Caroline's invitation to hit up a few after parties. As they leave, he hears Liam asking him questions, wanting to meet up, but he ignores him.

He's only slightly discouraged to realize that Louis has decided that him and Liam need to attend a few after parties themselves,. Luckily, that just means that Nick gets to hear their vague, nonsensical party-thoughts, a few loud _**LADS**_ and _**get in!**_ that adds more to the party atmosphere than it hurts. He's almost able to put the psychic bond out of his mind enough to have a good time, and eventually pull off another incredible post-Brits Breakfast Show for the ages.

He figures that, at some point during the night, the boys went to sleep or passed out by the time the show started, and he manages to do the entire three and a half hour show with only his own thoughts in his head. By the time he gets home after, he follows their example and crashes face down on his bed, lazily kicking off his clothes. Pig jumps up and drapes herself dramatically across his lower back.

He wakes up hours later to a pounding on his front door and, subsequently, Pig barking wildly. He groans into his pillow, entire body aching like a bruise. He knows all of his friends were mostly in the same state as him, last time he checked. In various states of undressed and clutching whatever home-cooked hangover remedy they choose to believe, and determinately _not_ up for company.

He wraps his duvet around his shoulders and makes his way to the door, shushing Pig all the while, and he opens his door to find Liam Payne on the other side of it.

“Um,” Nick says.

 _ **He's got a dog!**_ Liam thinks. What he says is “Hey mate! feeling rough, eh?”

“Uh,” Nick says, as Liam makes his way into Nick's house. He turns and waves at a black SUV parked on the street. The driver, a large – intimidating man in sunglasses, even though the sun has to have been down for a good couple of hours – waves back and drives off. Nick lifts his hand and waves weakly.

“Sorry to intrude,” Liam says sincerely, “but I couldn't think of any other way to talk to you.” He pauses. “Other than, you know.” He lifts his hand to point at his head. In his other hand he carries a plastic grocery bag, which he promptly thrusts out at Nick. “I brought snacks!”

Nick stares blankly at the bag, mind a mess of question marks. Liam's smile wilts, and he lowers the bag sheepishly. Nick can sense that this visit is about to venture firmly into the realm of Awkward, when Pig makes herself known, barking and annoyed at the lack of attention on her.

Liam crouches down to pet her almost immediately, smiling wide. “Hi,” he says, letting Pig climb all over him, nose dipping into his bag. “What's your name?”

 _ **Pig,**_ Nick thinks, and Liam beams up at him. “I mean, um.” Nick clears his throat. “Her name is Pig.”

“Well, hello Ms. Pig,” Liam says, scratching her behind the ears. “I'm Liam.” Pig barks at him, whole body wiggling with delight.

“I'm going to put on some clothes,” Nick says loudly. “Or something. Make yourself at home.” And with that he pulls his duvet tighter around his shoulders and flees.

 _Did you give your bandmate my address????????_ He texts Harry as soon as he reaches his bedroom.

“He did! Sorry!” Liam calls from what sounds like the living room. Nick whimpers, pushing his face into his hands.

He dresses quickly, poking at his puffy eye bags in the mirror and trying fruitlessly to restore his hair to its former glory, but it's a lost cause, smashed down in some places and stiff with yesterday's hair gel.

When he finally makes his way back to the living room, Liam's made himself comfortable. “So,” Liam says, clapping his hands. “I figured, since we can read each other's mind and all, we might as well get to know each other a bit better.” He turns to rummage through his grocery bag.

He pulls out a six pack of beer. “I brought this, and these organic crisps that Harry likes, in case you're trying to eat healthy or whatever, and normal crisps in case you're not. _And,”_ he says grandly, “I brought this.”

In his hands is a copy of _X-men: First Class_. Nick frowns at it.

“You want,” Nick starts slowly, “to watch a superhero movie with me?”

Liam looks down at the case, flipping it around to look at the back. “Yeah, I mean,” he says, “it's got like, telepaths in it so. It's like research, I guess.” _**Me and Louis –**_

Nick's mouth twists. “I'm not exactly the biggest fan of movies,” he says, but that makes Liam's entire face fall so Nick's quick to follow up with “but I guess we can watch it. I was planning on having a quiet night in anyway.”

Liam cheers and moves to poke at Nick's television in search of a DVD player, and Nick sighs internally and curses painfully cute boy band members and their stupid big brown eyes. He excuses himself to go find some bowls for their crisps (he's an _excellent_ host, thank you very much) and on his way manages to pick up on some rather smug thoughts coming from Liam's direction, and Nick suddenly knows he's been played like a violin.

When he comes back, Liam's got the movie in, the DVD menu on the screen. He helps Nick pour the crisps into the bowls and hands him a beer before starting the movie. They clink their bottles together during the opening credits, and it almost isn't awkward anymore.

“So,” Liam says, turning toward Nick while Magneto's terrible, terrible past plays out before them. “Why don't we like, tell each other about ourselves? It'll make this whole thoughts-reading business a bit easier.”

“Um,” Nick says, leaning forward to set his drink down. “Okay. Like what?”

“Well, um,” Liam says. “Where are you from? I'm from–“

“Wolverhampton,” Nick says, rolling his eyes. “I saw your film, Liam Payne. You're kind of famous.”

Liam frowns. “Well, where are _you_ from? I don't think Harry's ever said.”

“Oldham,” Nick says. “In Manchester.”

Liam nods, like he's committing it to memory. “Nice,” he says. “And you know I'm from Wolvo, and there's not really much to say about that.” He smiles at Nick bashfully, “I guess that was a bit of a rubbish question.”

“No, no,” Nick says, laughing a little. “It was fine.”

“ _You're_ the interviewer,” Liam says. “What would you have asked? Ask me something.” He nudges Nick with his elbow, wagging his eyebrows at Nick. “Make it all professional and everything.” He does something with his face that Nick thinks is probably supposed to mean something. It's like he's blinking, but with intent.

“What are you doing with your face?” Nick asks.

Liam sighs. “I was _winking_. Keep up, Grimshaw. Ask a question.”

Nick chokes on a laugh, because that was anything _but_ a wink. “Okay, Payne, keep your pants on.” Nick scoots back on the couch, turning face Liam. The movie plays on, all but forgotten. “Where's Louis? Why can't we hear him right now?”

Liam groans. “I tried to get him to come, but he's sleeping off a combination of a hangover and jet lag. He only just got back to London yesterday morning.”

“So you didn't come back together?” Nick asks, pulling his socked feet up to wrap his arms around his knees.

“Naw,” Liam says, mimicking Nick's position. “He stayed back in the US for a bit, to see the sights and things. I just wanted to get home.”

“Could you still,” Nick bites his lip, trying to work out his phrasing. “Could you still...hear him?”

“Like, his thoughts?” Liam asks, and Nick nods. “Yeah. They're not quite as clear, you know, but I still heard them pretty well. Zayn says it's probably like, a cell phone, or something. Like the further away, the worse the service is.”

“You said you could hear my thoughts,” Nick starts, hesitantly.

“Nothing weird!” Liam says quickly. “Well, a little weird. You've got some weird dreams, mate. But it was just every once in a while, we'd hear a thought that didn't come from either of us. We didn't know who it was though.”

“Dreams,” Nick says, eyes widening. “ _I've_ had a few strange dreams as well, were they yours?”

“Mine or Louis' probably,” Liam says. “We don't know how it works.”

“Oh,” Nick says. He taps his feet against the couch rhythmically. “So you don't...mind? Having Louis hear all of your thoughts?” The idea has been plaguing Nick since Liam arrived. He feels like he needs to police his own thoughts around him, like he can't be himself in his own brain.

“I think it's different,” Liam says, like he read Nick's mind and, well. “With me and Louis it's like, we _already_ shared everything, or like, we tried to.” He scratches the back of his neck, eyes thoughtful. “I guess we probably should have been more freaked out than we were, huh?”

“Yeah,” Nick says sarcastically, looking over at the television. James McAvoy is in the ocean.

“I mean, it's not like it's impossible to keep things to yourself,” Liam argues, crossing his arms over his knees and resting his chin on them. “I mean, I–“

He stops, eyes wide, and suddenly Nick hears a list of what sounds like the names of superheros.

Nick raises an eyebrow. “Is that how you've been hiding things from Louis? Not exactly subtle, mate.”

Liam sighs. “I know, but I don't know how else to do it.” He hides his face in his arms, voice muffled. “He probably already knows anyway.”

“Knows what?”

 _ **That I like.**_ He stops. _**Professor X. And Shadowcat, and Colossus, and Cyclops, and Beast**_ **.**

“Oh no, that's not gonna work,” Nick says, only the tiniest bit gleefully. “You've got to tell me _now_ , Payne. We share brains, remember? No secrets.”

Liam just grumbles into his arms. _**Storm, Rogue, Jubilee, Gambit**_ **.**

“Come _on_ , Liam. I won't tell anybody, not even Louis. I'm _excellent_ at secrets. Look, I'll tell you one of _my_ secrets in return.”

Liam groans. “I'll tell you _sometime_ , okay? Just not now.”

“No you won't,” Nick says. “I can read your mind, remember? But I'll drop it. For now.”

“How kind of you,” Liam says, and then he looks at the screen. “Aw man, we missed Wolverine.”

“I interviewed him before,” Nick says. “He wasn't promoting this movie, though. It was one of the thousand other ones. James McAvoy too.”

“Do you ever get like, nervous?” Liam says, “because they're so famous, like. I met David Beckham and I thought I was gonna shit myself, to be honest.”

Nick wants to ask if Liam asked for a paternity test when he met Becks, but he holds his tongue. Liam, of course, hears it anyway, if the way he bursts into laughter is any indication. “Thanks for the compliment, mate, but I didn't ask him that. You know one time I was him for fancy dress?”

He shows Nick pictures on his phone, posing with Louis in a mess of black and white makeup, and Harry dressed like Miley Cyrus. In turn, Nick shows Liam all the pictures from the times he's been papped wearing a skirt.

After that, it's almost like they're old friends, the way Liam settles into Nick's home and head. They start the movie over, and then they have to keep pausing it because Liam either has to explain something to Nick or can't stop laughing at something Nick's said. They order takeout and Nick has to force Liam to stop giving Pig bits of his food, the force of their combined puppy eyes not enough to sway him.

All in all, the night is a lot better than Nick had anticipated. Liam's funny in a way that Nick loves, deadpan and understated, and he seems to think everything Nick says is comedy gold, and he's always been a fan of being admired.

In all honesty, he probably likes it a bit too much, if the way he keeps catching himself flirting is any indication. Liam doesn't seem to mind, but it's still weird, having someone be able to read his thoughts. He keeps catching himself flirting, and then thinking about how he's flirting, and then pointedly _not_ thinking about how he's flirting. It's a cycle that repeats itself constantly, while they're watching the movie and while they're picking at each other's Thai food and then after that, while they're trying to talk themselves into a level of intimacy that would make sharing their private thoughts a bit easier.

It's weirdly date-like, and he can't let himself _think_ that it's weirdly date-like, because his weird date would know, but if someone tells you not to think about elephants, chances are you're just going to think about elephants.

It's late, and Liam's settled himself comfortably on Nick's floor, scratching Pig's ears where she lays on her stomach and telling Nick about how his mum cried when he got his first tattoo, when things get weird again.

 _ **What the hell?**_ Louis' voice echoes in Nick's head, and Nick whips his head around in response, like Louis somehow broke into his flat to interrogate them.

Liam's eyes widen. _**Louis!**_ He thinks. _**How was the nap?**_

 _ **Hiya, Louis,**_ Nick says nervously. Liam gives him a supportive smile. It's still weird for Nick to communicate without talking.

 _ **Are you with him?**_ Louis thinks, accusatory and Nick rolls his eyes and thinks that Louis sounds like a jealous boyfriend. _**I heard that**_ , Louis thinks back.

_**He can read our minds, Louis. Did you think we could just ignore him forever?** _

_**Yes,**_ Louis says. Then, _**Where are you? I'm coming over**_ **.**

Nick's just about to protest, when Liam gives him a resigned look and shakes his head. Nick groans and falls back on the couch covering his head with his arms.

 _ **Bring your copy of X-Men: Days of Future Past, would you?**_ Liam thinks.

***

What follows is what Nick comes to think of as Hell Month.

“What is _that_ supposed to mean?” Louis asks, indignant, from where he lays sprawled across Nick's couch. He's got his smelly feet all over Nick's decorative throw pillows. “This month has been just _grand_.”

Louis had showed up the night after the Brits with a cracked DVD case and a sour attitude. He then ate all of Nick's leftovers and only ever paid attention to Liam and Pig. It was like Nick wasn't even there.

After that, they just didn't leave. Ever. Nick spent the entire weekend slowly losing his patience as Louis managed to take up all the space in Nick's house while simultaneously never interacting with Nick. Nick isn't a stranger to sharing space with people, he prefers to have company over as much as he can. That's why he gives all his closest friends house keys and stresses that his door is always open, but spending this much time with Liam and Louis is...trying.

Liam is pretty much always lovely. He's a bit messy, but Nick could probably overlook that. And he needs to stop analyzing Liam like he would a boyfriend. Don't think about elephants.

Louis, however, is completely unapologetic in his awfulness. He leaves the night after the Brits, and in the process manages to steal a small statue of a squid that Nick had placed on his mantlepiece. He returns the next day with Liam and an armful of tangled up video game consoles, a backpack full of sugary snacks, and the overall smell of dirty socks.

He also had managed to wake up early enough every day to think especially disruptive thoughts in Nick's general direction. During the show.

“How did you get into my house?” Nick sighs, already resigned to the presence of Louis Tomlinson in his living room, playing Fifa with the volume up too loud.

“Nicked Harry's key, didn't I?” Louis says, eyes never straying from the television screen.

Nick sighs again, dropping his groceries in the kitchen. “Where's Liam?”

“Dunno, somewhere,” Louis says, pausing the game and coming to hover around Nick like a fly. He pokes around in Nick's grocery bags, and Nick has to bat his hands away.

“That's a lie,” Nick says, steadily putting away his food. “You always know where Liam is.”

“Well, if you want to know so badly, you could just find out yourself.” Louis upturns one of the bags and oranges go sprawling all over the kitchen counter. “Did you get snacks?”

“I got _food_ ,” Nick says. “And you know I'm still not, you know, comfortable with.” He makes a vague gesture with his hand that is supposed to mean The Fact That I Share A Brain With Two Members of One Direction.

Louis rolls his eyes and bends over to pick up an orange that had rolled on the floor. “You need to get over it, mate. It doesn't seem to be going anywhere anytime soon.” He digs his nails in and starts peeling the orange, letting the peels drop to the ground.

Nick points an eggplant at the growing pile on the floor. “I'm not picking that up.”

“Of course not,” Louis says. “Pig's gonna eat it.”

“Pig's not going to eat _that_.”

“She's a dog, and a Pig. She'll eat it.”

“You're not feeding my dog orange peels.”

“Well I'm not _not_ feeding your dog orange peels.”

“ _Louis.”_

“ _Nick.”_

Nick throws his hands in the air. “ _What_ is your problem?” he yells, and Louis immediately tenses up like he's ready to fight.

“Oh, I don't know, _maybe_ I don't appreciate you invading our minds! We were just fine before you showed up–“

“You think I _asked_ for this?” Nick gestures at Louis. “You think I _wanted_ some spoiled, immature–“

“At least I'm not some stuck-up, prattish _d-lister_ who thinks he's _soooo posh–“_

“I do _not_ , you dirty, disgusting little–“ Nick pauses. “Did you just think about kissing me?”

“ _What_? No!” Louis says, but his eyes are wide, and he's blushing the slightest bit.

“Oh my god,” Nick says. “You did. You thought that you wanted to kiss me.”

“Shut _up!_ ” Louis says loudly. “I didn't!” His face darkens by the second, with rage or embarrassment, Nick doesn't know. His eyes are bright and sharp in the flourescent light of the kitchen, and for a second – a _millisecond_ – Nick considers.

“ _You_ just thought about kissing me!”

“No I didn't,” Nick denies instantly.

“Yes you _did_ you dirty liar! You want to kiss me back! I can't believe you–“

Nick interrupts him, stepping forward and into Louis' space. Louis takes a step back, back hitting the edge of Nick's kitchen counter as he stares up at Nick defiantly, and Nick's just about to lean down when he steps on a pile of orange peels.

“ _Ugh_ ,” Nick says, stepping back and shaking the peels off his foot. “This is. This is _such_ a bad idea, oh my god. This isn't romantic at all, this is–“

He's the one that's interrupted this time when Louis launches himself face first at Nick and they go tumbling to the floor.

***

Don't think about elephants.

Liam gives Nick a strange look. “What is that supposed to mean?”

Nick gulps, and he doesn't think about elephants. “It's just, uh. A thing,” he says finally. He looks down when Pig tugs on her leash a bit. “ _Pig_ , you know better than that.”

“Let me take her,” Liam says, grabbing the leash from Nick. They've taken to going on Pig's nightly walks together, leaving Louis at Nick's to nap or play video games or destroy furniture. It's nice. Liam's nice. “It's a thing you're thinking quite a lot recently.”

“It's like,” Nick says. “It's like a thing like, if someone tells you not to think about elephants, you're just going to think about elephants right? I saw it in a movie or summat.”

“So,” Liam says, looking over at Nick with his brows furrowed. “You want us to think about elephants?”

Nick laughs. “No, it's just like,” he pauses, collecting his words. “It's like a distraction thing. If I don't want to think about something I'll think that, so that I'm not thinking of the thing I don't want to think of?” Liam gives him a blank look, and he laughs again. “I guess it's like your superheroes thing.”

“Oh,” Liam says, avoiding Nick's eyes. “Yeah, that.”

“Yeah,” Nick says awkwardly, avoiding Liam's eyes in turn. They both look everywhere but at each other.

“About that,” Liam says, and Nick finally looks at him. He's got his shoulders back and his eyebrows set in a serious line, like he's mentally preparing for himself. Nick can hear him mentally preparing himself. “I think. Is it okay if I tell you now?”

“Of course,” Nick says, pushing down the guilty feeling in his gut. Don't think about elephants. “You can tell me anything, Liam. I mean, you kind of have to.”

“Right,” Liam says, and then, quickly, “it's only that like, I think he knows anyway, so it's not much of a secret anymore. He keeps avoiding me and I think it's because he doesn't want to deal with it or he doesn't want to hurt my feelings or he doesn't want me to read his thoughts anymore and–“

Nick stops and turns, grasping at Liam's upper arms. “Liam,” he says sternly. “ _What_ are you talking about?”

“I like Louis,” Liam says, just this side of frantic. “I mean. I'm in love with Louis. I think he knows. Oh god.” He crouches down on the sidewalk, hands over his face. Pig runs up and starts jumping at him.

“No, _Liam_ ,” Nick says, crouching down to his level. “No, it's okay. Liam. I'm sure he doesn't–“

“He _does_ ,” Liam says into his hands. “I was going to tell him, because I thought. We do _everything_ together. And we live together, and sleep in the same bed. And he has these _dreams_ sometimes, and these thoughts about me that he cuts off.” He looks up at Nick, face red. “He's much better at this not thinking thing than we are, Nick.”

He must be, because Nick had no idea. About either of them. “Are you still going to tell him?”

“I _was_ ,” Liam says miserably, “but then he started like, avoiding me. And doing the not thinking thing.”

Nick pushes down another bout of soul-crushing guilt and a surprising amount of disappointment. He thought he was good about pushing down the part of him that had a giant, raging crush on Liam Payne, but that apparently wasn't the case, because here he is, pulling Liam up off the pavement and into a hug, assuring him that things would be okay between him and someone that isn't Nick, and sadness settles in his heart like a stone.

“It'll be okay,” Nick says, patting Liam's back and gently guiding him back to Nick's house. “I know it. I know you boys like the back of my hand now, it'll be fine.”

Nick doesn't think about elephants.

***

“We can't,” Nick starts, before looking over at where Liam lies asleep on his living room floor, Pig curled up at his side. “We can't do this anymore,” he whispers.

“Do what?” Louis asks at full volume, not taking his eyes off the movie on the television and with a handful of crisps halfway to his mouth.

Nick sighs. “Like, kissing and things,” he clarifies, still whispering. “We can't do it.”

“Why not?” Louis asks, and when he looks over Nick expects him to be angry, or indignant, but he just looks hurt.

Nick sighs again, running a hand through Louis' hair. It's been over a week since their argument in the kitchen, but they haven't done much other than cuddle every so often. They talk a lot more, when they're alone and when they're with Liam, and Nick's starting to see a side of Louis that he hadn't before, the softer side that usually only Liam sees, sleepy and fond. At night, when the other boys are asleep and he lets himself think of elephants, he thinks he's happiest when they're all together, and the parts of themselves that only they can see come out. He wants to surround himself with them all the time, and he doesn't know how to feel about the fact that he's apparently experiencing two crushes simultaneously.

“Because we can't,” Nick says. “I can't say.”

Louis narrows his eyes. “What do you mean you can't say? We say everything to each other, it's part of the package.”

“Look it's,” Nick pauses. “Complicated. It's complicated and it's confusing me, and I just think we should back off a little, maybe? Until it all sorts itself out. Maybe we rushed into things. It doesn't seem right to start a.” He doesn't want to say relationship. “A _thing_ , when we can literally read each other's minds.”

Louis frowns, eyes stormy. “Okay, fine. I'll back off,” he says angrily, standing up. He kicks at Liam's side and Liam snuffles away, clutching at Pig. “Come on, Liam. We're going.”

Liam looks confused, but he stands anyway, looking around for his shoes. “You don't have to _leave_ ,” Nick pleads. _**I want you to stay**_ **.**

“Nope, sorry, we're backing off,” Louis says. Liam frowns at both of them.

“What's going on? Are you fighting again?” he asks, crossing his arms in front of his chest. Nick thinks he probably means to look intimidating, but he just looks vulnerable.

“No,” Nick says, at the same time as Louis' “Yes.”

“I thought you guys were okay now,” Liam sighs, and he looks like he doesn't want to drop the subject, but Louis is already halfway out the door, so he just hugs Nick goodbye and trails after him.

The door slams, and Nick's mind is quiet for the first time in a long while.

***

Not long after, and Nick is on a plane to New York.

He wouldn't call himself an impulsive person, but something about the echoing loneliness of his flat after Liam and Louis left drove him to do _something_. He figures this is what people mean when they talk about fight or flight instincts, and Nick's never been a fighter.

He's lucky this whole thing happened on a Friday, because all it takes is a call to Daisy for a place to stay and a trip to the airport and he's on his way. He does it all in a fog, like he's on autopilot, and that's probably why he doesn't hear anything from the boys. That or they're ignoring him.

Making his way through the security checkpoint of the airport, Nick thinks about the boys. His boys. At some point they'd become his boys, between the endless movie nights he'd thought he hated but apparently loved and the late night walks with Liam and Pig and the accidental naps with Louis. t They're his boys, but the more he thinks about it the more he's unsure about his place in the whole outfit. Louis had said it, that first time they kissed, that him and Liam had been perfectly fine without him. You couldn't separate those two for anything, and Nick was just an extra. Why _had_ he been included in their weird psychic bond, anyway? What the hell was the world playing at?

He falls asleep on the plane, thousands of miles away from his boys. He dreams of a blue camel singing Madonna and forgets about it when he wakes up.

***

Liam is greeted at the door of Nick's house by a white envelope carefully taped to the front. It says his name in all caps in Nick's slanted handwriting, and slightly under it, like an afterthought, is a tiny scrawl of “and louis.”

Liam frowns and pulls it down, digging out the letter within. All it says is that Nick's sorry, for what, Liam doesn't know, and he had to get away for a bit, and not to come looking for him, because he's taking a bit of time to think about elephants.

“What the hell does that mean?” Louis asks, hooking his chin over Liam's shoulder and frowning down at the letter.

“It's a thing,” Liam says, turning the letter over and back again, like there's some hidden clue to Nick's location somewhere on it. He looks worriedly over at Louis.

“Don't give me that look,” Louis says. “He's a grown man, he can do what he wants.”

“What did you guys fight about, anyway?” Liam asks, for the hundredth time, and for the hundred and first time Louis just clams up, not looking at Liam and not thinking of anything.

“Nothing. Anyway, he's not here. Let's just go,” Louis says, grabbing Liam by the elbow and dragging him back to where Paddy's waiting in the car. He snatches the letter out of Liam's hand once they get settled and examines it carefully. Liam just frowns and starts drafting the first of many texts to Nick.

***

New York without any of his friends is. Well it's not _boring_ , it could never be, but it definitely doesn't have its usual shine.

Nick's lost somewhere, but he doesn't much mind. It's not like he has much to do anyway. He's still got another day before he has to be at the airport and back to his normal life, and he'd much rather think about how to make his way back to Daisy's apartment than _that_.

His phone buzzes for the thousandth time in his pocket, and Nick doesn't even bother checking it. He knows it's from Liam, trying to guilt Nick into revealing his location. He wonders why Liam even bothers, but then he realizes he's being an emotional sap and tries to banish the thought. He knows now what Liam and Louis had meant when they said that they only caught glimpses of Nick's thoughts when they were in different countries, because he hasn't managed to catch a complete thought from either of the two boys since he's been here.

He turns a corner and sees a street that is nearly identical to the one he was just on, and he mentally curses.

***

Liam and Louis are lying around in Louis' house when they catch their first thought from Nick. It's a string of curses, and something about Siri, and the brief intimation that he should have brought a thicker coat.

Liam's on his feet in an instant. “He's somewhere cold!” he says.

“It's _April_ ,” Louis says.

“There are places that are hot in April,” Liam says, but he's already losing hope. Louis catches onto Liam's worried and sad thoughts and sighs.

“It's o _kay_ , Liam,” he says. “He'll be back before the show on Monday.”

“I know,” Liam says. “I just want to know if he's okay.”

“He's _fine_. He just wanted a break,” Louis' _**from us**_ goes unspoken, but Liam turns sharply towards Louis.

“This isn't fair,” he says. “You need to tell me what you fought about.”

“It's not important,” Louis says, like a mantra.

“But it _is_ ,” Liam says. “Because now we're all messed up and Nick's missing, and you're acting weird and sulking all the time. Just tell me what happened!”

“I _told_ you,” Louis says angrily, standing up and glaring at Liam. “He said he wanted a break from us, that he was _confused_ and he wanted to wait until it fixed itself up.”

“But that's not the full story,” Liam says, accusatory. “You know it isn't. Just _tell_ me.”

“Alright!” Louis yells, shoving his hands into his pockets and pacing. “We...hooked up, alright? We kissed! And then things were better between us and we were all happy, but then he said that we needed to stop, for no reason! He said he _couldn't tell me_ why he wanted to end it, even though we hadn't even done much. And then he ran off and I don't even care if he comes back.”

He slumps down on the couch, hunching further into his hoodie, and Liam gapes down at him. “You guys,” Liam starts. “You kissed?”

“I _just said_ ,” Louis says.

Liam doesn't say anything for a moment, sitting down next to Louis on the couch and hanging his hands between his knees. “Do you like him?” he asks softly.

“I,” Louis starts, running a hand down his face. “I uh, yeah, but I also.” He stops, looking away from Liam.

“You also what?” Liam asks, and Louis meets his eyes. They're wide and brown and lovely, and Louis gulps.

“I also, like,” Louis says, and then he buries his face in his knees. _**Like you. A bit**_ **.**

He looks up to find Liam gaping at him, but his mouth turns up at the corners. “Oh my god,” he says.

“What?” Louis asks defensively, crossing his arms.

“This is so stupid,” Liam says. “I told Nick that I liked _you_.”

Louis' brow furrows. “What?” he asks again.

“I told Nick,” Liam says slowly, like he's reaching an epiphany. “That I liked you, that I was _in love_ with you. And that I was going to tell you because I thought you liked me back, but you and him were a thing?”

Louis pushes his face into his hands again. “This is so immature,” he mutters.

“And then!” Liam continues. “Nick didn't want to hurt my feelings by staying with you like, he thought he was getting between you and me. Only you like him too, and you know what?” He laughs, grasping at Louis' shoulder and shaking him. Louis bats him away. “I like him too!”

Louis looks up, eyes wide. “Are you having me on?”

Liam laughs again, hitting Louis' shoulder. “No! I'm not! I thought it was weird, because I've liked you so long, and then I thought I would be happy just having him as a friend, but _that_ obviously didn't work. But now it's all going to work out!”

“So what are you saying?” Louis asks. “That we enter some weird psychic threesome with Nick Grimshaw?”

Liam just grins.

***

On the plane back to England, Nick has the stage dream again.

This one feels like his dream though, like it's him. He doesn't have a microphone in his hand, and the crowd is nowhere near as large. He looks out at them and notices that a disproportionate amount of them are actually camels.

He turns around on the stage, only it's not as supernaturally large this time, but he still has the distinct feeling that he shouldn't be alone on it. This isn't his territory, it's Liam and Louis'. They should be there, not him.

He turns around and looks up the incline, staring into the gaping doorway, only this time he doesn't sit and wait to wake up. He starts marching up the steep hill, falling forward on his hands and knees as it gets steeper. He makes it to the doorway, and sir? Sir, the captain has turned on the fasten your seatbelt sign, if you will.

***

When he finally gets home, it's as dark as expected. Fifi still has Pig, because he was too tired to bother with picking her up on his way home. He practically collapses into his door aiming his key blindly and missing several times before it slips in and he unlocks the door.

He stumbles in, dropping his luggage on the ground and kicking off his shoes, and he's so ready for bed that he's nearly asleep already, but there's something wrong.

There's a light on in the kitchen, and Nick is too exhausted to deal with burglars right now, so he grabs the only thing nearby that could be classified as a weapon (a heavy bowl that he had placed on the hall table. Louis usually liked to fill it with toys and things to annoy Nick) and moves towards the light.

He pulls the bowl above his head in striking position and jumps in the doorway, figuring he'd go for the element of surprise. It doesn't work, because all he's greeted with is Liam and Louis laughing themselves silly and wearing party hats. They're both holding a cake that says “Happy Psychic Threesome?”

“You were going to use the _bowl_?” Louis asks, wheezing. “The _bowl_.”

“Oh my god, Nick,” Liam says, failing to contain his giggles. “We've got to get you like, at least a bat or _something_.”

Nick pulls the bowl back down, crushing it to his stomach. He can't stop looking at the cake. “What is happening here, exactly?” he asks.

“Oh!” Liam says, looking shocked. “Oh yeah, Louis, get into position.”

Louis nods, and then shuffles the cake over into Liam's arms. He pulls out a party popper. “Nicholas Jonathan Grimshaw–“

“That's not my middle name.”

“I, Louis William Tomlinson, esquire, and him, Liam James Payne, would like to cordially invite you to be in a psychic threesome–“

“Polyamorous relationship, Louis. I told you there's a _word_.”

“ _Anyway_ ,” Louis says loudly. “Be our boyfriend.” He pulls the popper and confetti flies everywhere. Nick gapes.

“ _What_?” he asks. He drops the bowl and it clatters to the ground, unbroken.

Liam sighs, but he can't stop smiling. “So, Louis told me why you fought, and I realized that you fought because of me, only you don't _have_ to fight because of me, because there's nothing to fight about.”

Both Louis and Nick give him confused looks.

“I told Liam I liked both of you, and he told me the same,” Louis says finally.

“Oh,” Nick says. “Why didn't you say so?”

Both of them shrug.

“So are you going to give us an answer, or what?” Louis asks. “I have more poppers.”

Nick can't quite get his thoughts together, looking at the two of them. The cake in Liam's hand is starting to slide downwards towards the floor, and that will be hell to clean up if Liam doesn't notice, and Nick is looking forward to hearing the story of how they asked for the message written on it. He knows he should say something, but until this moment he hadn't actually considered having the _both_ of them, and he's pretty sure his brain is nothing but a string of _**yesyesyesyes**_ **.**

“Can I just,” Nick asks. “Can I just kiss you? Both of you?”

Liam immediately beams at him, taking a step forward, but Louis pretends to deliberate a bit. “You know, I'm suddenly not so sure about this,” he says. “I mean, I'm the shortest one here, and that's just not on, and–“

“Shut up and get over here,” Nick says, smiling, and both his boys move towards him. He goes to meet them in the middle, but he manages to step onto the side of the bowl he dropped, and the other side goes smashing into his shin.

“Oh god,” Nick says, curling over and grasping at his leg. “Oh my god. This is so not romantic. I'm so sorry–“

He's interrupted by Louis once again barreling face first into him, but this time he's also accompanied by Liam, who steadies them and manages to direct Nick to the kitchen table and pull out a bag of frozen peas for the growing knot on his leg.

After that they sit, Nick's pant leg growing steadily damper under the peas and his two boys pushed on either side, trading kisses and thoughts and dreams. Nick thinks about elephants.


End file.
